28. Jack
Chapter 28
Jack
I didn’t see or speak to Morgan again for the rest of the week, but I spent all of it fretting about seeing her on the Saturday. I had to get past that though, because it was Chloe’s birthday, which was a massive deal to her, meaning it was a massive deal to me. And to Phil, who pulled up to Fatima’s just after me. I hung back so I could go in with him, watching as he hauled a massive plastic storage bin out of his boot.
“What the hell is that?” I asked as he struggled up the path to the front door. The August heat was no joke, and I saw beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“Surprise,” he grunted.
“That’s not for tonight, is it?” I asked, confused; we’d agreed that I would do the shopping since he was doing the cooking, and the six Bags for Life digging into my fingers showed that I’d done my part.
“Not strictly,” he said. “Just a little activity for later.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but we were interrupted before I could question him further.
“Get in here!” someone – probably Chloe – shouted from inside, so I swung the door open and smiled at the cool air that rushed over me. The air-con had finally been installed.
Everyone else was already there – including Jared, whom I hadn’t seen in months – sat in a circle playing SushiGo.
“Watch out, she always goes for the nigiri multipliers,” I said from over Chloe’s shoulder, giving her a gentle kick.
“Hey, fuck off!” she said, swatting my knee.
I locked eyes with Morgan across the circle, and I felt myself freeze – I’d been wondering what it would be like to see her tonight – but I needn’t have worried. She smiled up at me with the same cheerful smile I’d come to know and love.
“Okay, no, actually fuck off,” Chloe said, shooing me away, so I absconded to the kitchen. I had a lot of prep work to do, and a lot of anxious thoughts to rewrite based on that smile.
I put the bags down on the worktop, then pulled out my phone when it buzzed in my pocket.
New information received today will change the course of your life forever!!
Normally I dismissed Amy’s messages as hokey, but every time I saw Morgan these days, I had high hopes of getting some new information. My brain went instantly into a spiral of speculation, and I had to actively close down that part of it so I could focus on the task at hand.
Over the last couple of years, Chloe had got really into mead. She’d become a bit of a snob about it, actually. So when Phil and I had started planning her birthday, he’d immediately suggested a mead tasting to put her snobbery to the test. Now I had meads from all over the UK, from the country’s largest meadery to an obscure small-batch producer in Scotland who only produced a few dozen bottles a year.
Jared came into the kitchen as I was unloading them. I braced myself for the conversation; Jared was a good guy, but he was such a lad, and I’d had enough of that on the stag do a couple of weeks ago. He and Fatima had been sixteen when they’d got together, and apparently she’d had teacher vibes even then, so I always wondered what had attracted her to him.
“It’s really good to see you, man,” I said, trying to remember the last time I’d seen him. He’d moved to Manchester a while ago for work, and he didn’t make it back very often except to see Fatima.
“Yeah, you too,” he said. “I really miss it around here.”
I grabbed the paper cups I’d bought and started lining them up behind the meads – seven cups for each of the twelve kinds. Without being asked, Jared started writing numbers on the bottom of each one so we could remember what they were.
“This is so cool of you guys,” Jared said, “making such a big deal of each other’s birthdays. I wish I were around more, but work is so busy. I’m glad Fatima has you all.”
“The shiny new job not so shiny anymore?”
“Not so new, either,” he said. “I’ve been up there almost a year now.”
“Yikes. And no sign of getting to come home?”
Jared shook his head as he started to pour out sips of the first mead into the paper cups behind it. “Nope. Gotta make manager for that. I thought I was closer to that promotion than I am. It feels so out of reach sometimes.”
I nodded in understanding, even if I didn’t, in fact, understand. “How’s it going with Fatima then?”
Jared sighed, and I heard the weight of a thousand sleepless nights in it. “Mate, long distance is fucking hard . Honestly, between you and me, I’ve been thinking about just coming back. Getting a new job. I miss my friends. I miss my house. And damn if I don’t miss Fatima all the time.”
I could empathise; I was worried I’d just handed myself the same fate by pointing Morgan towards jobs further afield.
“But I fucking love work, actually. It’s weird, because I know it’s the thing keeping me from Fatima. But when I’m there, I really love it. I sort of lose myself in it, you know?”
I nodded, but I did not, in fact, know. I certainly didn’t love my job enough to get lost in it. So I offered him the only advice I could think of; the only part of his plight I felt I could relate to.
“I think that if you care about someone, you want them to have that. Something they love doing. Even if that means you don’t get as much of them as a result.”
Jared stood up from the pour he was in the middle of and nodded, staring at me for a moment.
“Damn if that’s not the most sentimental shit I’ve ever heard you say.”
I gave a weak laugh as I felt my face go red, looking down at the cup in my hand. “Yeah, sorry.”
“No,” he said, reaching a hand out, not quite touching me but grabbing my attention. “I meant that in a good way. Everyone else is all, ‘go get that bag, Jared’. Or even ‘love comes and goes’. But I like that perspective.”
I laughed again, pouring out the last bottle of mead in the cups marked with the number twelve. “Yeah, well, it’s hard being so wise.”
“You’ve got it bad yourself, haven’t you,” he said more quietly.
I looked up at him and tried my best to look confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fatima told me you and Morgan have been hanging out a lot. I don’t know her, but she seems cool.”
“She is,” I said, almost defensively, even though it was a painfully oversimplified way to describe her. “Like, really cool.”
The rest of the group broke into shouts and gasps, and I looked over to see Morgan doing her ridiculous victory dance in the middle of the group. She looked so happy. So comfortable. It made me smile.
Jared must have caught me staring. “Yep, real bad,” he said.
Fatima and Grey came into the kitchen, arms linked. Grey was wearing their rainbow cloud-pattern biker vest, which they always busted out for birthdays. They’d even dyed their hair pastel pink to match.
“What are you fellas talking about in here?” Fatima asked, reaching for one of the bottles, but Jared shooed her hand away.
“Just work,” I said.
“Jared’s favourite topic,” Fatima said, helping us start to carry the cups to the table. “If I had a pound for every time he geeked out over a spreadsheet, we could pay off this house.”
We set the mead out, making sure there was one of each number in front of each seat. Then we called in the others for the tasting.
I was surprised to discover I actually liked some mead. I’d always turned my nose up at what Chloe ordered, but apparently that was because she liked sweet and semi-sweet meads, whereas I preferred dry ones. Most importantly, Phil begrudgingly had to admit that he could, in fact, taste the difference.
Morgan seemed to be enjoying herself, though I tried to force myself not to just stare at her the whole time – half because I didn’t want to freak her out, and half because I could feel Jared’s gaze bouncing between us like he was watching a Wimbledon match.
After the tasting, everyone pulled out their presents for Chloe, and she did a terrible job of pretending like she hadn’t been expecting anything. Grey got her some new dice, naturally, not that either of them needed any more. Fatima (and, nominally, Jared) got her some fancy stationery with her initials on it. Morgan got her a plant pot with illustrated boobs on the side, tiny gold hearts forming the nipples. Phil and I had got all the mead and food, but I had something for her from Mum and Amy: a pair of dangling earrings made of silver wire wrapped around red-and-white-banded stones.
“I was instructed to tell you,” I said, pulling out my phone, “that not only is sardonyx your true birthstone, but that if you”—I cleared my throat as I got to the part she would know for sure hadn’t come from me—“charge it under the full moon, it will help protect you from any and all toxicity that would threaten to come into your life.”
“Thank you, Amy and Patricia,” Chloe said, slipping her existing earrings out so she could put the new ones in. I took a picture and sent it to Mum and Amy.
Just as everyone started to get up from their seats so Phil could start dinner, mutterings of giant Jenga in the garden making their way around the table, Phil cleared his throat.
“Just a minute,” he said, gesturing for everyone to sit back down, which they did obediently. He left the room and came back with the giant storage bin, setting it down heavy in the middle of the table.
“Is that for me?!” Chloe asked with a gasp.
“Part of it,” he said. “I know I said I wouldn’t have them ready until closer to the trip,” he said, and Fatima and Grey, clearly seeing where this was heading, squealed quietly and leaned towards one another in glee. Phil continued. “I’ve got your costumes ready for your first fitting. If you could please try them on, I can pin them and see if anything needs to be altered.”
He took the lid off the box, and everyone leaned forward to see inside, but there were just brown parcels with each person’s name scrawled across them. He took them out one by one and handed them to us.
Since we were all sleeping over, per Chloe’s request, everyone dashed off to the rooms they’d be sharing. Phil and I always bunked in the twin guest room together when we stayed over, but when he didn’t follow me, I went alone to our room upstairs, shutting the door behind me.
I untied the twine holding the parcel together and unwrapped the costume, running my fingers over the fabric. I could already tell it was beyond anything I would have expected or hoped. There was what looked like a white shirt, and a folded brown garment I suspected was trousers, and the hero piece: the jacket. I’d known roughly what it would look like from the drawings Morgan had done, but I hadn’t been prepared for how well it would translate to real life.
I set the pile down on the bed and pulled on the trousers and shirt, then slipped the jacket on over my shoulders, doing up the buckles at the front. One of the shoulder ties was undone, and I tried to contort myself to tie it, to no avail. I’d just decided to take it off when I heard a knock at the door, which I assumed was Phil there to check the outfit.
“I need to tie the shoulders,” I said as I swung the door open, but when I looked up, it wasn’t Phil standing there.
It was Morgan, and she looked fucking incredible.
I was surprised at first; I knew she’d wanted to keep her outfit a surprise, but I’d thought Phil had been working on chain mail for her. But this was as far from a suit of armour as possible – almost. The blue strapless dress was tight around Morgan’s torso, then flared out at her hips to brush the ground. Small ivory and gold flowers were stitched into the fabric every several inches of the dress. Her hair was behind her shoulders, showing off a piece of blue lace that wrapped around her neck like a choker, gold stitching following the lines and bringing out the pattern. The lace gave way to dozens of delicate gold chains, all interconnected, draping across her chest and around her shoulders. It gave the illusion of armour, despite the sweetness of the dress.
“What happened to the chain mail?” I asked, unable to hide my awe.
“That’s for my Morgana outfit,” she said. “This is the idea I had for the second day. I know it’s a little unconventional for a Ren Faire?—”
“It’s perfect,” I said, my eyes still roaming. If I’d thought I’d admired the lines of her body before, this gown was another story entirely. It looked so light, like I could rip it with the slightest touch; and that thought, of course, brought lots of mental images rushing in that I could have done without.
Phil was a fucking genius.
I tried to form words, but none seemed to come, and I gulped instead. Morgan smiled at the floor, her face pink.
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it,” she admitted. “And it already fits perfectly.”
“Beautiful,” I said, and it came out all choked.
“I saw Chloe’s before I came in,” she said, “and it’s suitably slutty. She’s thrilled. This came out really cool, too.” She reached out to run her pinched fingers along the edge of my jacket, her knuckles brushing against me through my shirt.
“The shoulders aren’t tied up properly,” I said, turning to show her.
“Here, let me,” she said, pushing past me into the room. I hesitated for a moment before closing the door again behind her.
I turned towards her, and she was already reaching towards my shoulder. I ducked slightly to help her, watching in the mirror as she tied the small strings into pretty little bows, tweaking until she stepped back and patted them, seeming happy.
I turned to look at my full reflection, shocked at how badass I looked. With a pair of high boots and a fake weapon of some sort, maybe a bit of stubble along my chin, I’d look right at home.
I’d never understood cosplay before. I loved gaming as much as the next nerd, but part of the fun was it being in your imagination, right? But standing here in these clothes, I felt like a completely different person. One who might do things differently. Be a little wiser; a little bolder, even.
“Not bad,” Morgan said. I turned back to face her and was struck yet again by how amazing she looked.
“Thanks,” I said. “We make quite a pair.”
I didn’t mean it as a loaded comment – I just meant that we both looked so different than usual, and like we came from the same storybook – but as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they held weight.
“Jack,” Morgan said, stepping towards me so she was just a few inches away, “I know we talked about this already, but I really hated how everything went down at yours. I wasn’t trying to reveal some escape plan I had, and I’m sorry that I didn’t realise how you might take that.”
“Well, like I said on Monday, I don’t want you to go. But that’s no excuse for me overreacting.”
Morgan smirked. “You did kind of overreact,” she said. “But it’s okay. And thank you for the list. There were some good options on there.”
“You’re welcome,” I muttered, meeting her gaze. I didn’t want to think about the list right now; not with how close she was to me, or how heavy her gaze was.
“Also, I have to admit…” she trailed off, and I could tell that whatever was going to come next was going to be important. New information that could change the course of my life forever, even. A pregnant pause hung between us, and it felt like we were about to step around a corner. Through a doorway that would lock behind us.
“What?” I urged, ready to step through.
“I … I had very different hopes for that night than what happened.”
My heart dropped out of my body. Was this it? Was this really – finally – happening? Morgan dropped my gaze and looked at the ground again. Without thinking, I put a finger under her chin and angled her back to me, catching her eye again, holding the side of her face. I wanted her looking at me for this. I needed to see her eyes when she said it; to know that she meant it. To finally put an end to all the wondering; all the wishing; all the want .
“What did you want?” I asked, my voice a low rasp now. “What did you hope?”
She didn’t look away this time, not that I would have let her. She let out a sharp breath through her nose, her shoulders falling. I felt her chin lift slightly away from my finger. She was steeling herself.
And then she raised herself up on her tiptoes and closed the distance between us, her mouth crashing into mine.
My lips parted in response, and my body took over immediately, one hand finding the small of her back to pull her closer, the other sliding through her curls and tugging at them at the base of her neck, tilting her head up further to deepen the kiss. Our breaths were hot and fast against one another’s faces, and almost immediately I started to go a bit lightheaded.
I dipped down to wrap an arm around her back, pulling her towards me as I backed up, stepping until the hard wood of something – the door, I was pretty sure – hit my back. I slumped down slightly against it so I was closer to her height. She leaned into me, bending one leg to bring her hips closer in to mine. Fragile fabric be damned, I bunched up the skirt of her dress, desperate to find that leg, that hip; to run my hands over it. Finally I found the bottom of the dress with one fist, pulling it up until my knuckles brushed against the bare skin of her thigh, making her shudder and push her hips fully against mine. I was already rock hard, which I was almost certain she could feel, even with so many layers of tulle between us. I moved my mouth along her jaw to her ear, clawing at her thigh as I sucked gently on her ear, and she let out a soft moan.
Morgan’s hands began to roam, too, tracing my jaw with her fingers as I kissed down her neck, smoothing along my chest with her palms, slipping under the thick fabric of the jacket to unbutton the top of my shirt. She grabbed me by the lapels and pulled away, making me groan at the lack of her, but she pulled me with her back across the room. As she did, she unbuckled my jacket and then pushed it off over my shoulders.
Holy shit, was this really happening? Five minutes ago I’d been desperate to get a moment alone with her, and now she was in my arms in a fucking ballgown, biting at my lip and pressing herself against me. I thought I might pass out from happiness already, but then she pushed me back to sit on the edge of the bed, and when she planted a knee on either side of my hips and straddled me, I knew for sure this would be the end of me. And I’d die a very, very happy man.
“Should we stop?” I asked, my mouth pressed against hers again, sharing hot breaths between us. I was begging her in my mind not to take the out I was giving her, but I forced myself to pause before lifting her gown any further.
She smiled against me, and I thought I might melt. But before she could answer, another voice interrupted.
“Yes you should!” Phil stage-whispered from the doorway, and Morgan practically jumped off me, backing up until she knocked into the chest of drawers, her hand over her mouth. I quickly grabbed a pillow from behind me and placed it over my lap, certain the tight trousers would give away just how hot and heavy things had got.
“What were you thinking?” Phil asked, still in a whisper, pulling the door shut behind him and walking over to Morgan. He smoothed out the skirt of the dress and checked it over as Morgan stood frozen in horror.
Seemingly satisfied that I hadn’t actually ripped the dress, Phil stood and turned to face me. “You know that I am a fan of this,” he said, gesturing back and forth between Morgan and me. “But please, for the love of all things holy, not in the costumes, yeah?”
Morgan burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join her.
“I’m serious! Those flowers took me a full week on their own,” he said, his best angry face on, though I could tell he was trying to hold back a smile. “Don’t make me take it back,” he added, turning to Morgan.
Morgan’s face went suddenly deadpan as she clutched the skirt of her dress in her fists. “Please don’t.”
“Then no more funny business in the dress. After the Ren Faire, you can get railed in a ballgown all you want. But until then, get naked first like normal people. And gently , please.”
“Deal,” I said, then waited until Phil looked at me so I could give him a stern look. “Now get out.”
“No way,” he said. “You two can’t be trusted.”
“It’s fine,” Morgan said as I opened my mouth to tell Phil off. “We can continue our … um … conversation later.”
“Suuuuuure,” Phil said, waving her towards the door. “Now let’s go.”
She glanced at me apologetically as she obeyed, letting herself be shooed out of the room. But there was still laughter in her eyes, and that heat that I’d seen there just before she’d kissed me, and I knew she meant it when she said we’d be continuing this later. I strained against the pillow once more just at the idea of it.
Phil shut the door behind Morgan and turned back to me. His stern expression split into the most laddish grin I’d ever seen, even on him.
“Fucking finally, mate!” he said, coming over to grab my shoulders and shake me. “Well done.”
In the mirror I saw my face turn a bright beet red. “Don’t be an idiot,” I said, but I was smiling, too.
“How long has that been going on?”
Morgan had actually pushed me onto Phil’s bed, so he sat down on mine, facing me.
“About sixty seconds longer than you’ve known about it.”
“Score one for the costumes.”
“Hey, I’d like to think I had something to do with it.”
We both laughed, but my mind was still with Morgan, and what she was doing now. Would she go back to her room and debrief with Chloe about our own near-debriefing? Or would she play it cool? I had no idea – it had happened so suddenly, and we’d had no time to talk about what it meant.
“Hey, could you please not say anything to the others?” I asked. “I mean, obviously if she tells the others then that’s fine, but I want to follow her lead.”
“Yeah, totally,” Phil agreed. “Now get dressed, please; I need to see if that costume fits.”
He waved for me to stand up, but I shook my head and pointed at the pillow. “I’m gonna need a few minutes.”
“Riiiiiight,” he said in understanding, backing towards the door. “Let’s do that later then. And I suppose that can be your bed now. Oh, and just remember, no funny business in the costumes, and that goes for solo play, too.”
I threw the pillow at him as he dashed through the door, but he was gone before it got there.